


No Reason Like Revenge

by Punk_Sarcastic_Misanthropic_Writer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Auror Harry Potter, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Neville Longbottom, BAMF Tom Riddle, BECAUSE I DAMN WELL SAY SO, But he’s my dick, Dark Golden Trio, Dark Harry, Death Eaters, Eventual Smut, Evil Albus Dumbledore, F/F, F/M, Good Death Eaters, Good Severus Snape, Good Voldemort (Harry Potter), Harry Potter is So Done, Harry Potter is a Good Boyfriend, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, He’s still a dick, I’m probably gonna add more later, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Possessive Harry Potter, Possessive Tom Riddle, Probably underage at some point, Severus Snape Lives, Severus Snape is So Done, Snape is Harry’s father, Somewhat Good Voldemort (Harry Potter), Soul Bond, Soulmates, The Golden Trio, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, also time travel so does it really matter?, and by probably I mean definitely, because I’m impatient, no beta we die like men, says Harry fondly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29767530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_Sarcastic_Misanthropic_Writer/pseuds/Punk_Sarcastic_Misanthropic_Writer
Summary: Harry Potter, haunted by the memories of his lost loved ones, cannot seem to move on from the war and dreams of their deaths every night. Frustrated and confused by what he sees, he resigns himself to solving the mystery of their last words. Until his health begins to fail, and everything becomes quite clear.“The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies” - Unknown
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Lily Evans Potter/Severus Snape, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 55
Kudos: 163





	No Reason Like Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> This is the first fic I’m posting online, and I have absolutely no idea where I’m going with it. But I’m very much looking forward to figuring it out.  
> Please note that both flashbacks and Parseltongue are italicized, but it's not hard to tell the difference.  
>  _\- Punk_

_"We shouldn't be this kind of tired at our age."  
\- J.B. [dying]_

It was Friday morning and Harry was silent, keeping his head down as he walked through the busy atrium of the ministry, heading straight for his office. He didn’t want to be bothered today. He didn’t want to be bothered most days, but today in particular had him in a foul mood. Last night’s dream reared its head once more as he entered the empty elevator. It was as vivid and painful as the night before, and the many nights before that, all the way back to when he had lived it. He lost himself in the memories as he let his feet guide him to his office.

_“No…”_

_Harry heard Snapes strained gasps as he dropped to his knees beside him_

_“Professor!” He placed his hands on the wound running scarlet down his teacher's front, calling for help._

_“No…” Harry’s attention was drawn back to Snape. “I can’t…You…” Harry watched as shock enveloped his features and tears welled in the man’s eyes, before a look of complete and utter anguish took over him. “Take them…” He gestured to his tears, pulling a vial from his robes. “Quickly…Please…” Harry did as instructed, shock cooling his blood and making his hands shake as he adjusted his grip on Snape’s shredded neck. He couldn’t just let him die! He needed to get help. He called again, desperate for someone to hear._

_“Look at me…”_

_Harry looked down at the man he had despised for years, dying in his hands, and didn’t try to understand the tears running down his face at the thought of losing him. He’d lost so many already._

_“You have… your mother’s eyes…” Harry paused, listening to the man's strained breathing._

_No. No. No, no, no, no, no-_

_“And…” Snape, in a movement that seemed to carry the weight of the world, pressed his hand to Harry’s cheek and gently ran the other through his hair. He looked at Harry with an emotion unreadable, but visible, oh so visible, in his obsidian eyes. Then his limbs went limp and his eyes dulled, as he released one last exhale._

_“…Professor?” Harry felt as though suddenly his lungs had filled with smoke. “Professor Snape?” Harry couldn’t see, his vision details dulled by the tears streaming from his eyes. He couldn’t think as his mind was overwhelmed with grief and loss. He was only vaguely aware of the fact that he was calling for help. Large puffs of vapor from his breath the only evidence, unable to hear his own screams._

_He called until his voice gave out, finally looking down at his hands where he held a bloody bottle filled with tears._

Harry cleared his throat, coming back to himself as he entered his office. There was something about that memory that, no matter how much it disturbed and upset him to think of, he just couldn’t stop. He hadn’t finished… It was so frustrating to Harry. Snape hadn’t finished talking to him. He’d had his life, what he had spent his life doing, and his last words, all cut short. They were taken from him so quickly. That one ‘And’, Harry mused, would follow him through the rest of his life. It left him feeling uneasy, a nagging sensation at the back of his mind that he couldn’t seem to shake. So he kept letting himself go back, to the war, the losses, the memories. There was something about his expression, and what he had said, that Harry couldn’t let go.

Sirius too, when he had his turn in Harry’s dreams. When Bellatrix had cast that curse, and Harry had screamed, tried to run to him, but was held back by Moody. Sirius had staggard, before he’d looked to a cackling Lestrange and spoke. It seemed Fate was insistent that Harry not hear the last words of his loved ones. But Harry had read his lips. He was almost positive Sirius had looked at her, impossibly pale, expression unreadable but for the clear confusion and shock, and said ‘Bella’ before falling backwards into the veil. Harry had lost all that was left of his family that day, Remus dying in his sleep a few days later with the loss of his soulmate.

It hurt to remember, to scrub for information over and over. But the feeling remained, and still, he felt it was almost like if he just kept looking, then everything would make sense. That’s why he looked, and thought, and dreamt. No matter the pain and tears it brought. No matter what Ron, Hermione, or Ginny said. He had survived his entire life on luck and instincts, and his instincts now were telling him to keep searching. Now, if his instincts could tell him what exactly he was searching _for._ He ran a tired hand over his face. Sitting at his desk, he stared blankly at the oak top. It was technically his day off, and he wasn’t supposed to be in today. It was one of his reasons for avoiding his coworkers, not the main reason, but reason enough as he’d been thoroughly chastised for coming in on weekends before. But he can’t seem to sit still lately, filled with some sort of chaotic, nervous energy. It was like he’d forgotten to turn off a burner on the stove, or re-ward his door when he left this morning. Except he hadn’t forgotten. He knows. He’s checked. Harry’s chair creaked as he leaned back to look out the enchanted window in his office. Charmed to show a rainy London day, he watched the drops falling down the panes, before catching his reflection in the glass. His hair was a mess, evidence of his sleepless nights showing in the dark bags under his eyes, and he was pale, even more so than usual. He looked sickly, and it was exacerbated by the look of confusion marring his features.

Wait…

Harry froze, ice sliding through his veins. Confused… Why were they confused? Serius maybe, with the unexpected spell. But that’s not what it looked like. He was confused and shocked at Bellatrix. Snape had been a spy for years, working against Voldemort and thwarting his plans by giving Dumbledore information. He had walked into that shack fully aware that he wouldn’t be walking out again. So why would he be shocked? Regret was more likely, or even fear. But such complete and utter confusion and They were at the center of a war, the threat of death not taken lightly. And yet, after fighting their enemies for years, before they had died they looked so…

Shooting up from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process, Harry bolted out of his office. He ran, previous thoughts of subtlety forgotten. Betrayed. They had looked betrayed. Shocked and confused and betrayed, as though they’d been doused in ice water and woken from a trance. Harry turned down the hall to the lifts and saw Kingsley Shacklebolt exit one.

“Hold it open!” Harry shouted.

“Potter?” Kingsley had stopped the doors from closing before doing a double-take at who had asked. “You’re not meant to be here until Monday, and you know it.” He began to scold.

“I know,” Harry gasped, skidding to a stop in front of his boss. “I’m- I’m going home. I have to-”

His sentence cut short as he was overcome by a sudden dizziness, his arms flailing for purchase before his legs gave beneath his weight. Kingsley had grabbed him before he hit the floor and set him down, his shouts muffled by the ringing in Harry’s ears. Harry panicked as he began to cough and his eyes blurred until he couldn’t tell what was Kingsley and what was ceiling. A sharp pain bloomed in his chest before his vision blacked out entirely and he lost consciousness.

_You have…your mother’s eyes…_

__

__

_Bella?_

__

__

_Bone of the father…_

__

_Give me my wand, Tom._

__

__

_Flesh of the servant…_

__

__

_Why? You won’t be needing it._

__

__

_Blood of the enemy…_

__

__

_Tom?_

__

__

“Tom?” Harry stood to the side, watching as his younger self knelt by the side of an unconscious Ginny Weasley, facing a sixteen-year-old Voldemort Horcrux. He was dreaming, he realized, watching his memory of the Chamber of Secrets as if in a Pensieve. Harry had spoken to the Horcrux for weeks before it was stolen. He’d felt so betrayed after learning the truth. 

Young Harry stood, brows furrowed in suspicion. “Give me my wand, Tom.”

“Why?” Tom Riddle spoke, head tilted slightly. “You won’t be needing it. For now, at least.”

It was real Harry’s turn to be confused now. That wasn’t right…

“Listen, we’ve got to go! We’ve got to save her!” Harry pleaded.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Harry…” Riddle twirled Harry’s wand in his hands. “You see, as poor Ginny grows weaker, I grow stronger. I had meant to use the basilisk but…” He tilted his head and looked in disappointment at Ginny.

Abruptly, the memories rippled and froze. Harry blinked in surprise before loud whispers filled the chamber. Fear crawled up his spine as he whipped around searching for the source of the voices. The sounds grew and he screamed as an invisible force tightened around his throat, yanking him backward and dragging him across the chamber floor away from the memory. The invisible bands turned into thick glowing ropes of white light. He fought against the tightening of the binds, kicking and splashing in the water. He couldn’t breathe and he started reaching out for anything to hold onto or defend himself with. His hand slapped against the wet stone before his fingers found something. Looking to his right, he saw Gryffindor’s sword appear in his hand. With a tight grip, he swung as hard as he could behind him, slicing the tendril gripping his throat. The voices screeched and let him go, but his head felt like bursting at the noise. He shut his eyes and clamped his hands over his ear, his own voice lost in the chorus of screams.

“You can’t save her. At least, not in a way I’m willing to let you.”

Harry opened his eyes at the sudden voice. He was standing right where he was before the attack, the violent presence trying to tear him from this memory gone.

“Unless you want to take her place. You see, Harry, it was Ginny Weasley who opened the chamber.”

“No…”

“Ginny was the one to release the basilisk,” Tom Riddle scowled, “Couldn’t even follow proper instructions.”

“No! She couldn’t- wouldn’t!” Harry protested.

“She was the cause of the attacks on the students.” Riddle began to circle him as he spoke. This wasn’t right, Harry thought. But at the same time, he knew it was. With every passing second, he could feel that this was his memory, his real memory.

“I warned her that the basilisk had grown mad, attacking and petrifying the students, killing one, before I locked it away fifty years ago.”

“You locked it up?” Harry whispered, “You’re the Heir of Slytherin?”

“Yes.” Riddle’s mouth quirked in a proud smile for a moment, before it was lost to a scowl as he continued “But the power of the diary had gone to her head. The magic of the chamber too much for her, she went mad.”

“She refused to listen, trying to dispose of the diary in the girl’s bathroom.” Riddle paused, eyes locking onto Harry with intense focus. “And then, who should find it but you? The very person I was most anxious to meet.”

Harry looked at Riddle skeptically “And why did you want to meet me?”

“I knew I had to talk to you, meet you if I could. ‘The Boy Who Lived.’ I thought, perhaps, you could take me to my counterpart.”

“Counterpart?”

“Yes.” Riddle spun around and began writing in the air.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

With a swish of the wand, the words rearranged, sending ice down Harry’s spine.

_I am Lord Voldemort_

Harry was stunned. Tom, his friend who he’d become so close to, who he’d trusted, was the man who murdered his parents and tried to kill him.

“But first I needed to test your knowledge, so I decided to show you the capture of that brainless oaf Hagrid.”

“Hagrid’s my friend!” Harry yelled, “And you framed him, didn’t you?”

“He might as well have done it, keeping an Acromantula in the school. Someone was bound to get injured eventually-”

“But it wasn’t him! And what about you? Dumbledore must have suspected you.” Harry interrupted causing Riddle's eye to twitch, “You’ve got a bloody basilisk hidden away, writing messages in blood on the walls, petrifying students!”

“Have you not been listening?!” Riddle began prowling again in irritation, “I did not want the basilisk released. The creature so lost on my ancestor's hundred-year-old ideals that it would kill students in honor of its master’s memory! It’s useless!” Riddle marched forward and came to a stop in front of Harry. “The girl did not write those messages, and I did not tell her to.” He hissed. Before harry could ask him who did, Riddle continued. “Dumbledore was indeed suspicious, watching my every move and finding any reason to question my actions. Spreading rumors against me-”

“He’s not like that!”

“Oh really,” Riddle’s eyes narrowed at him. His next question caught Harry off guard. “When was the last time you questioned a Gryffindor’s actions?”

Harry blinked in surprise, “What?” Harry was almost as surprised to find that the answer was never, “I-I don’t know? What are-”

“And how do you feel about Slytherins?”

“They can’t be trusted.” The abruptness of Harry’s answer scared him, and Riddle seemed incensed. His eyes widened, “I mean- No! That’s not-”

“Of course,” Riddle snarled, making Harry suppress a flinch. “Can’t have Dumbledore’s precious hero be making any opinions of his own now, can we? Harry, look at me.”

Harry did, confusion clear in his eyes. Why wasn’t Tom, why wasn’t Voldemort, trying to kill him?

“What I’m about to tell you is going to upset you, and what I’ll do after is going to hurt. But-”

Riddle quieted his voice as Harry took a step back, ready to bolt. “But it is to help you. You are under compulsions Harry, and I’m going to remove them.”

Riddle lifted Harry’s wand, but before he could run, Riddle spoke the spell. Harry felt his throat tightening as a thin string of white light appeared on his neck before it shattered with a weak hiss.

“What do you think of Slytherins?” Riddle questioned. This time, Harry’s answer wasn’t immediate, but he took his time to think about it. His stomach sank and he was filled with dread when he found the answer.

“They’re just students… Their pranks can be mean, but kind of funny, and…” Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

“And?” Riddle pressed.

“And,” Harry opened his eyes to glared at nothing in particular. “And I should probably be one of them.”

Riddle raised his chin smugly. “Now what were you saying about Dumbledore?”

“Why would he do this?”

“Why does he do anything?” Riddle sneered. “He’s a meddling old fool, hungry for power and influence wherever he can get it.”

Harry scoffed “You’re one to talk, Voldemort.”

“My counterpart is…” Riddle paused, his frown deepening, “Lost. I suspect mad.”

“You suspect?” Harry said, incredulous. “He tried to kill a baby! AND an eleven-year-old! I barely survived!”

“So I heard. That was never his intention Harry. He went to your parents to speak about the prophecy…” Riddle paused at Harry’s confusion. “Do you- No. Of course, you don’t.” Riddle sighed. “Your father came to my counterpart with a prophecy. Both Severus and Voldemort knew it didn’t hold any truth, but with the rising rumors against him and his fellow Death Eaters, he was worried for his wife and coming son’s safety. So, an agreement was made that no harm would befall you until after a discussion. You and your mother were under Voldemort’s protection.”

Harry raised his hands to pause Tom’s story, shaking his head in disbelief “Wait, my dad wasn’t a Death Eater. And who is Severus? My dad’s name was James.”

It was Tom's turn to scoff now, the action foreign-looking with his formal persona, but by now Harry knew the irritation wasn’t directed at him. “James was not your father.”

“What…” Harry was stunned, unsure whether to believe him or not but… he’d been telling the truth about everything else, like the compulsions.

“James was a family friend, who offered a blood adoption for Lily Evens to give her some immunity should her husband’s status as a Death Eater be discovered. Of course, the changing of her last name to Lily Potter caused everyone to guess that they had been married. At the advice of Voldemort, they did not correct these assumptions to further clear Lily and you from harm. Your real father was a Death Eater named Severus. Severus Snape.”

A pause. Then Harry burst into laughter. “You- you almost had me there.” Harry swiped his hands through his hair. “Snape? Professor Snape?”

“Yes, I heard he was teaching potions here.”

Harry’s laughter faded, as Riddle carried on. “You’re not joking, are you?” At Riddle's shake of the head, Harry continued. “But… Snape hates me. Absolutely despises me! He can’t be my f-father…” Harry’s face crumpled with his voice as everything came crashing down on him.

“I believe he too is under compulsions, as well as many others, including Lord Voldemort.”

Harry looked back at Tom, his head swimming with all the new information tearing apart the world around him.

“As I said, rumors of the ‘true purpose’ of the Death Eaters spread like wildfire under Dumbledore’s orders.” Tom started pacing again, and Harry realized in fascination that it was probably a nervous tic. Something he only did when agitated or deep in thought. “Lower members were constantly being framed for crimes against muggle-borns and half-bloods.”

“Attacks were made, and several false witnesses and show trials later and we were labeled as terrorists against the wizarding world by the ministry, enemies of the ‘Light’ and blood-purist extremists.”

“But you’re… not… any of those things.” It came out as more of a question than intended, but Harry didn’t care.

Toms lips pursed and, tilting his head, he let out an exasperated sigh. “No, Harry. We are… were a political party aiming to create more prosperous relations with creatures, and a clearer understanding and acceptance of Dark Magic… Do some research, next time you can. The information on Death Eaters is certain to be false, but that wasn’t always our title. We used to be called The Knights of Walpurgis.” Riddle's eyes narrowed at Harry’s resounding snort. Suddenly, Harry’s brain caught up to him as he looked at his surroundings once more. “But what about Ginny? I won’t let her die.” Riddle sighed. “I need a body but…I suppose, now that you’re here, we can attempt to follow through with my original plan of using the basilisk as an energy source.” Tom looked sharply at Harry, “That is… if you’ll help me?” Harry opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a hissed voice. “Heir? Who issss here?” The ground began to rumble and the statue of Slytherin opened its mouth.

“Shut your eyes!” Tom shouted, and Harry did. Riddle turned to speak to the giant snake.

_“We have a guest. If you would shield your eyes-”_

_“Guessst? He ssmells familiar…”_

_“Where would I even look for that sort of stuff?”_

Riddle turned back to Harry, surprise slipping into his voice. _“You speak Parseltongue?”_

 _“What? Oh.”_ Harry cursed his inability to tell the difference. _“Yeah, I guess.”_

 _“You guess?”_ Riddle questioned _“Harry-”_

 _“Haaarrryyy?! Haarryy Potteerr!!”_ The basilisk roared. _“Dessstroyer of the heir!! I’ll kiiill youuu!”_

“NO!” Riddle shouted. He was ignored and Harry gasped as Tom was shoved roughly against the wall by the enraged monster, wand flying from his hand and clattering somewhere out of sight.

_“Killlll!”_

“Run Harry!”

Harry sprinted down the path, Riddle trying to calm the beast all the while. He barely ducked a strike that cracked the stone, causing him to slip. But incredibly, a melodious cry echoed through the chamber as Fawkes flew in, dropping a bundle in front of Harry and clawing at the eyes of the basilisk. Harry grabbed the bundle and unraveled it, revealing the crumpled form of the sorting hat.  
Riddle stood against the wall, clutching his chest in pain, staring disbelievingly at Harry’s hands. “So, this is what Dumbledore gives his great defender… an old hat.” He coughed, “At least the songbird is helpful.”

The basilisk thrashed and cried out in pain, Fawkes flying back towards the entrance of the chamber.  
It hissed menacingly at Harry as his foot hit a puddle.

_“I may be blind, little sspeaker… but I can sstill sssmeellll youuu!!!”_

It rushed him out of the hall, the memory fading as he lost it in the tunnels, and clearing only as Harry made his way back to the main chamber where Tom crouched near Ginny, grabbing the diary with the hand not clutching his ribs.

“Are you alright?” He gasped, out of breath from running. “I’m fine,” He said, but his voice was strained. He’d probably broken a few ribs. “Quickly, you need to be the one to kill it.”

“What?”

“To save Ginny… You need to kill the basilisk with the diary nearby. It can absorb the soul as it exits its body restoring my physical form.”

“Why do I have to do it? I can’t kill that thing!”

“You have to. The ritual must be completed by someone who earnestly desires my return.” Riddle smirked, “So muster up some enthusiasm, will you?”

Just then a roar was heard, and there was an explosion of water as the king of serpents burst from an underwater tunnel near the statue's base. Ducking under his arms to shield himself from the downpour, he caught sight of something silver sticking out from the hat. Lunging forward, he pulled out a sword, the handle encrusted with colorful gemstones.

_“What have you don to the heir ssspeaker?! He sssmells of pain!”_

_“You did that when you hit him!”_ Harry couldn’t help but shout, dodging its strikes and clambering up Slytherin’s statue. He made it to the top, swinging the sword at its snout before a strike knocked it from his hand. He dove for it just as Fawkes swooped down and ripped the diary from Tom's fingers. He yelled in warning, but it was too late. Fawkes chucked it into the beast’s mouth as Harry stabbed into the basilisk’s advance. It bit down on both the diary and Harry’s arm.

Tom and Harry both cried out in pain, and a gaping hole appeared in Tom’s stomach, edges lit as though he was a burning photograph, before Tom collapsed onto his back. The basilisk thrashed, screaming pitifully before falling dead on the chamber floor. Harry rushed down, the pain in his arm and chest nearly too much for him. Grabbing the diary from between the serpent’s teeth he staggered forward,

“Tom…” Harry dropped to his knees, limbs growing heavy, and began crawling to Tom. He managed to make it to him and pull Tom’s head into his lap, head growing fuzzy with the effort. Ink poured from the diary’s pages through the wound the basilisk’s fang had punctured, covering the floor and seeping into the waters, a never-ending stream of black.

“Well,” Tom gasped “That didn’t quite go as planned.”

“What can- Tom, what do I do?”

“You can’t- can’t do anything. It’s t-too late.”

Harry grasped Tom's hand, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Just, help him… help my counterpart. He needs it.” More burning holes appeared over his body, eating away at him. “If- If anyone can… It’s you, little soul…” He smiled before his form faded entirely and Tom was gone. Harry gasped at the pain in his chest and arm, suddenly stronger without Tom's presence, hot tears rolling down into the puddle of ink. The diary had stopped bleeding.

“Oh, my dear boy…” Harry looked up, only to meet the twinkling blue eyes of the headmaster, before his gaze drifted down to the wand in his hand. “How very disappointing.” Thick white ropes shot out the end of the Headmaster’s wand, binding Harry’s throat and wrists. The memory faded.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment to let me know what you think! And if you notice any typos or grammatical errors feel free to point them out. Ily and I’ll see you next chapter!  
> \- Punk


End file.
